Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.

---

Chapter Six

The Horrors of Fairy Tales

Severus appeared in the rural township of Wiltshire at precisely eight o'clock. He turned quickly down a secluded drive that lay hidden among towering ramparts of ivy. To a Muggle passerby, they would simply see the thick flora covered wall and not the lane leading to the Malfoy Family estate that extended down the grove. Severus started down the concealed lane, the sound of gravel crunching beneath his worn boots as he went. He could have elected to Apparate directly to the front door, but he desperately needed the fresh air and time alone.

The recent transition into Potions professor and co-deputy had not been easy for him, and Minerva's ongoing predicament only added more weight to the plate he carried. Severus, though he never would admit it aloud, was dealing with a stress he hadn't felt since the war nearly fourteen prior. In a sense, he felt as if his life was changing before his eyes and he was utterly powerless to stop it. He quickly shook that thought from his mind as he approached the Manor. The Malfoys, if they caught stench of the slightest bit of inner turmoil, had a way of dragging it out of him.

Severus stepped up to the door, preparing to feign pleasantness only to have it swing open. There, peering out at him, stood Lucius Malfoy with a wide grin on his face. "Severus, do come in," Lucius said as he opened the heavy door for his friend. Severus obliged, shrugging out of his frock coat as he entered. "This way, if you would."

"I'm afraid dinner has been delayed. Narcissa has yet to return from Diagon Alley. Some nonsense with Draco…" the blond trailed of as they reached their destination.

"No matter," Severus said. "I suppose we can get down to business until she returns?"

Lucius, who appeared unaware of the suggestion, offered a glass in Severus's direction as he retrieved a bottle of Firewhiskey from his cabinet. "Drink?"

Severus took the glass and stalked over to the nearest chair. "If it will make this process any less bothersome, then yes, I believe I will."

Lucius took to the chair beside him, breaking the seal of a bottle of Firewhiskey to pour his guest a glass. "You're in a right foul mood this evening," he said with a sly grin. "That wouldn't have anything to do with your newest appointment at Hogwarts, would it?"

"Among other things," Severus replied nonchalantly, taking a small sip from his glass. Lucius watched his expression change from one of agitation to slight delight as the smoldering drink soaked in.

Lucius's wide grin was met with a scowl. "Exquisite isn't it?"

"Better than your usual fare," Severus said, taking another drink of the amber-coloured liquid.

"Glad to know you approve. Narcissa and I took the liberty of sending a bottle of the same vintage to Spinner's End, but since you have been at Hogwarts this past week I would assume it is still sitting pretty in your liquor cabinet."

Severus merely nodded as he picked up his drink again, sipped it, and waited for his companion to get to the point of why he had been summoned to the Manor.

Lucius, sensing Severus's desire to cut to the chase, sat his drink on the table, and sat back in his chair, both hands toying with the brass rivets holding the leather upholstery in place. "No more beating around the bush, I suppose. So why don't get right to it?"

Severus, carefully placed his drink on the table that sat between them, his arms folded casually across his chest. "Proceed."

"As you very well know, the Dark Lord, in his desire to become all-powerful, was rather taken by the lore of the Hallows. In his quest to discover the whereabouts of the Elder Wand, he built an impressive collection of tomes concerning their creation. The particular book I mentioned in my letter was a book that was left behind by mistake when he deserted the Manor."

"You asked me here to talk about the Hallows? Lucius, there are countless texts circulating the Wizarding world about the Hallows and each one is as ridiculous as the next. I can't see how this is going to assist me in my search."

"The book I'm going to show you isn't about the Hallows, you twit," Lucius scolded. He reached in his breast pocket, retrieving a small, tattered book. He tossed his son's childhood copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard into Snape's lap. "It is about the one who created them. I assume you are familiar with the Tale of the Three Brothers?"

Severus, ignoring Lucius's question, held the book up by its edge as if it were a piece of filthy rubbish. "Are you seriously insinuating the Dark Lord had his very own copy of the beloved wizard fairy tales?"

Lucius frowned, the age lines in his face becoming more apparent. "Of course not! This is only a reference I am going to use to educate you, my friend. Now, if you would, please find the Tale of the Three Brothers and start reading aloud."

"You can't be serious. I am not reading a word of this tripe."

"Just shut up and do it. There is a point I'm trying to make."

Severus glared at Lucius, cleared his throat and did as he was told. He turned to the page and allowed the rich texture of his voice filled the room as he started reading.

"There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these three brothers were learned in the magical arts—Lucius, this is ridiculous and I refuse to take further part in this nonsense," Severus growled as he snapped the book shut with a loud thump.

Lucius, who was trying to hide a smile behind his hand, suddenly looked scandalized. "Stop being a child and read the damned book!"

"Pardon my opinion," Severus said, the ire in his voice rising, "but I cannot help but feel like you are secretly finding a great deal of amusement out of this."

"Oh, your feelings are spot on. I find it dreadfully amusing to hear you read children's stories aloud. But I promise you, I have very good reason." Severus looked unconvinced, so Lucius went for a different approach. "Look, this will make much more sense if we can read and discuss at the same time. There are certain things that Beedle the Bard left out when he told this tale. In order for you to understand what I have to tell you, this has to be done."

Severus picked up his glass of Firewhiskey and drained it. "Damn you, Lucius."

Malfoy smiled sweetly and settled himself more comfortably in his chair as Severus thumbed through the book to pick up where he had left off.

"And so they simply waved their wand and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure." Severus looked up from the book to see the blonde urging him to keep going. "And death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travelers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him."

"What people fail to take into consideration with this," Lucius interjected calmly, "is that no matter how impressive the deal may sound, Death always has an agenda. As you can probably imagine, accepting anything on Death's terms is a rather ill-advised thing to do. Do continue."

"The oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death. So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother. Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man—not so unlike yourself, Lucius," Severus added snidely, "decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead. And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the three, and did not trust death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his Cloak of Invisibility."

Severus looked up from the book to see Lucius snickering at him. "What?" Severus hissed in a dangerously low voice.

"Nothing," Malfoy said, his voice shaking with a slight chuckle. "You just have a lovely reading voice, is all. I can't believe I've never noticed until now."

The book came barreling toward Lucius, narrowly missing his blond head as it whizzed past. Lucius held his hands up in surrender. "Alright! Alright! No more reading."

Severus poured himself another drink and downed it in a single swig. "You are a bastard, Lucius."

"I suppose that makes two of us, but that is a conversation for another time. Back to our little story," Lucius said as he summoned the book from across the room. "The brothers, as I'm sure you are aware, were never able to truly defeat Death. So, Severus, the question for you is this: what happened to the Peverell line once the brothers were taken by Death?"

Severus swirled the Firewhiskey in his glass before he shot a look of sheer indignation at the man sitting next to him.

If Lucius was intimidated by such a glare, it never showed through his calm exterior. "Humor me and answer the question."

"The line ended when the brothers met their demise," Severus managed to grind out.

Lucius, ignoring Severus's moodiness, stood up and walked toward a bookcase that stood on the far side of the wall. "So it would seem. This is where the Dark Lord's book comes into play." He pulled a massive tome from its spot on the shelf, and thrust his hand to the back of the case. Moments later, Malfoy retrieved a small, wrapped object from a hidden spot within the shelf. "If you recall, when you and Miss Granger came here looking for information, she mentioned a certain fourteenth century wizard by the name of Fendrel Rowntree," Lucius said, pulling the trappings from the unknown object. "You told her that was a dead end, remember?"

"Yes, I remember," Severus snapped. "Get to the point already, Lucius, before I lose what little patience I have."

"The surname sounded familiar to me, but I could not place where I had seen it. Then it occurred to me, after you had left, that there was, in fact, a biography of sorts and I happened to have a copy in my possession. You see, Fendrel Rowntree was a sorcerer in his own right, but not for the reasons you may think. I've discovered that he is actually a decedent of the Peverell line. "

"Then why isn't there any mention of him in written record for all the world to see?" Severus asked. "To have come from a line that supposedly died when the brothers did, one would think he would receive recognition for such a feat. If he was as important as you say, why did I not know of him?"

Lucius cocked an eyebrow as he stowed the wrappings in his trouser pocket. "Rowntree was not a man to be reckoned with. In his time, he was known for much worse than the name of his ancestors."

"What could he have possibly done?" Severus probed, betraying a hint of genuine interest for the first time all the evening.

"He had dealings with Death, Severus," Lucius finally said. "Dealings much different from that of the brothers. Do you know how powerful that would make a person? To be Death's equal would mean unlimited, unmitigated power."

A scathing noise radiated from deep within Snape's chest. "Death? You speak of it as if it is a true being."

"Is it not?" Lucius quipped.

"It couldn't possibly be real," Severus said. "Your information is coming from a child's book, Lucius, surely you realize? I am not one to put much stock in anything that would send first-years scurrying away to their mothers."

"Death is just as real as you or me, and he is always scheming in the shadows. Rowntree sought him out, hoping to acquire gifts similar to those his ancestors had received so that he could become the most powerful wizard in the world. He was granted this wish, but it did not last long. In order to teach Rowntree that he was still in control, Death arranged it so that Rowntree's life would be cut short in a most agonizing way. His magic became uncontrollable and erratic and his health deteriorated rapidly. Eventually, he lost his magic altogether. When the last bit of magic left him, Rowntree died, granting Death a decisive victory in his longstanding rivalry with the Peverell family. Tell me that doesn't sound familiar to you."

"How can you possibly know this?"

"This," Lucius said, holding up a black, leather bound book. The book, though it was in impeccable condition, was obviously hundreds of years old. Severus took the book from his friend, turning it over in his hands to examine it more closely. The binding was crisp, but pliable; evidence of careful preservation and care. This text, if it had truly belonged to the Dark Lord, was among one of the things he obviously kept close. The cover was blank save for the worn silver inscription that read, Deonon Fortuna.

"What you are holding," Lucius said, "is the Peverell history as told by Fendrel Rowntree; Beedle's primary source for his fairy tale. It details the Peverell family legacy leading up to Rowntree's death, sometime during the fourteenth century."

"Why did the Dark Lord have this?"

"It isn't obvious? Death, he believed, was his only enemy. How else would he ever hope to conquer it if by not seeking out what others had tried before him? I can see the skepticism in your eyes, Severus, but I cannot impress upon you the seriousness of this situation. Your friend, whoever he or she may be, has had their hand in something they ought not to have."

"Why didn't you mention this before?"

Lucius shrugged passively. "Your companion. Do you think I would show Hermione Granger a book belonging to the Dark Lord himself? I am not a fool. Some things should remain secretive, Severus. You, of all people, should understand this."

"Give me a moment, will you?" Severus asked, sitting down heavily on the edge of his seat. He opened the handwritten book and started to read.

It was just as Lucius had described. The grim details left out by Beedle the Bard were all there. Death's revenge played out with gruesome clarity, as he took back the lives that rightfully belonged to him. There was no denying the truth contained within the books' pages. The most damning information, however, was the similarities shared by Fendrel Rowntree and Minerva McGonagall. His end was a mirror image of what the Headmistress was going through. The irregularities in magic, the slow withering away that could be hindered by nothing.

Severus let the book drop from his hand as though it burned, everything becoming incredibly clear in the blink of an eye.

Startled by his sudden change in behavior, Lucius stood from his seat to retrieve the book. Severus looked away from the tome as if it was indecent, but he could not deny the information he had gained from it. It was there, swirling around in his head, giving him thoughts he could not truly believe nor refute.

Lucius clapped him on the shoulder, knocking him from his reverie. "Severus?"

Severus shook him off, heading straight for the front foyer. "I have to go, Lucius. There is something I must tend to. Give my apologies to Narcissa, if you will, but I cannot stay for dinner."

Lucius followed him out into the corridor "Wait.What are you going to do?"

Severus did not answer. Instead, he grabbed his frock coat from the hook as he Disapparated on the spot.

*****

Several hundred miles but only a few moments later, Severus burst through Minerva's door, eliciting shrieks of surprise from the Headmistress and the Matron who sat sipping tea at her bedside. "Poppy, if you will excuse us. The Headmistress and I have business to attend to." It wasn't a request the way it spewed from his lips, but rather a gravely serious order.

Poppy shot Minerva a perplexed look before she stood from her chair. "Is everything alright?" Poppy asked, gathering her teacup and saucer from the nightstand.

"We shall soon see," he said looking at Minerva with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. Poppy, sensing the mounting tension, exited with haste. Severus closed and locked the door behind the Matron and cast a Silencing Charm over the room before he gave his full attention to the witch propped against the pillows. "What do you know of Fendrel Rowntree, Minerva? And do not lie to me because I shall know if you do."

Minerva looked away the moment the question rolled off Severus's tongue. She folded her hands across her lap casually, seemingly undeterred by his tone. Severus, having known her for most of his life, recognized the ruse. "I have no idea who that is, Severus," she said at last, with a hint of impudence in her voice.

"Of course you don't," Severus seethed. "I thought you would be ignorant of his identity, so I took it upon myself to discover who this wizard was. The findings, as I'm sure you can imagine, were quite shocking, but they are much too important to keep to myself. Allow me, if you will, Minerva, the opportunity to educate you. Fendrel Rowntree is a descendant of the Peverell family." Severus paused, noticing the hardened expression that came across Minerva's face. "Odd, isn't it, that this wizard would be a member of the family known for cheating Death?" he replied, his voice decidedly adjusted to give a sense of disbelief.

Minerva never spoke.

"Of course," Severus continued, "this Rowntree fellow, couldn't learn from the mistakes of his ancestors. No, the fool had to go and do something incredibly stupid. Can you guess what he did?"

Minerva remained silent, her eyes now fixed solely on the wizard in her room.

"Pity. You don't even venture a guess. But seeing as I am in the mood to instruct this afternoon, let me spell it out for you. Fendrel Rowntree, in his infinite wisdom, sought out Death. He sought out Death willingly to make a deal. Does it not register with you at all; that there are striking similarities the two of you share?"

Minerva took a great shuddering breathe, obviously struggling to find her voice. "As I said, I have no idea what you are going on about."

Severus shook his head in disgust. One terrifyingly, swift movement later, his wand was drawn and pointed ruthlessly at Minerva. "Then you leave me no choice."

Minerva shrank back into her pillows at the sight of him, her hand edging toward her wand that lay by her side. "Severus, don't do this."

Severus's grip tightened around the hilt of his wand, his eyes locking onto Minerva's. Immense disappointment and anger seemed to churn in the depths of his dark eyes, and it was then that Minerva realized he knew. The panic that flashed across her face did nothing to stop the invisible spell that was about to spiral from the tip of his wand. "Legilimens!"

Inside Minerva's mind, Severus was nearly overtaken by the disarray. It was quite obvious she was struggling to find the strength to Occlude as thoughts and memories rushed past Severus in a blur. He wasn't interested in any of them, because he knew Minerva would never willingly offer up the deceitful memory he was searching for. Anyone lacking in the art of Legilimency would have easily strayed off course, but Severus did not take long to discover what he was searching for. The memory in question was buried deep down in her subconscious, as if even she was ashamed to call it her own. As he approached the memory, Severus could sense a change in the aura it gave off. He likened it to being in close proximity with a Dementor given the way an eerie chill began to crackle around him. Gathering his resolve to finally uncover the truth, he pressed head-on into the memory.

In an instant, Severus found himself standing on a beach a few feet behind Minerva. He looked around, trying to place them, but this place was unlike anything he had ever seen before. The wild squall pushing inland sent hazy sprays of sea water crashing into the large rock piled about of the shore. Even in the memory he could sense the bleakness of the surroundings.

Severus watched as Minerva made her way across the beach to a cliff face about fifty yards inland. She walked along the face of the cliff until she found a small opening barely detectable against the darkness of the rock. Minerva entered the cave and cast the Wand-Lighting Charm. She traveled down a narrow corridor that opened into a small alcove. Where, at the center of the alcove, stood a small, stone altar. Severus had no idea what this place was but was certain it was an ancient and dark place.

Minerva was now standing in front of the altar. She spoke an incantation completely foreign to Severus and tapped the altar with her wand. He had to avert his eyes as the room was filled with a bright, white light. Moments later, Severus was able to see clearly once more as the light was contained in a glowing orb floating inches above the altar.

The voice that came from the orb was loud and haunting, but also surprisingly feminine. "You have willingly called on Death, Minerva McGonagall?" the glowing, iridescent orb questioned, a hint of suspicion radiating from it.

"I have. I come to you with a proposition."

The flaming sphere flared violently causing Minerva to shield her eyes. "I make no schemes with the likes of you! Be gone from my presence. Await in fear for the day when I come to take from you what is mine!" Death began to shrink and vanish from the barren alcove, taking the stinging chill of dread with it.

"I have traveled to your dwelling place and uttered the required words. You may not refuse to speak with me." Minerva said defiantly, standing her ground before the feared entity.

Suddenly the orb began to grow into a spectral form, its silvery mottled tendrils flailing wildly in the sea wind as they materialized from thin air. Snape watched from a good distance as Death took on the image of itself. Most who saw Death in its true form never lived to tell about the encounter. Severus found himself looking Death in the eye, and for the first time in a very long time, he was afraid.

Death took the appearance of a young woman as pale as porcelain doll. Her features were as sharp as her tongue, but she carried herself with powerful stealth and gracefulness, two necessary qualities for stealing life from beneath people. Her wild white mane of hair cascaded over bare shoulders, blending perfectly into the flowing robes billowing in the squall. Her piercing eyes were hard and the color of the lightest blue, making her truly a frightful sight to behold.

Severus was filled with an incredible desire to flee from Minerva's mind as he watched the spirit take a menacing step forward. "You speak truly Minerva McGonagall, but be advised – although I am bound to listen to your request, I have no duty to grant it."

"I seek out your knowledge of life. Nothing more."

The phantom cocked her head to the side as if she was actually contemplating such a request. "My knowledge of life? Dear woman, look to the world around you. It will tell you all you need to know. When you understand that life is but a tiny droplet of water in the vast ocean of eternity, you will know the knowledge of life."

"I wish to know how to change someone's path in life," Minerva clarified.

Death frowned, her thin mouth pressing into a hard line. "That is not for you to decide."

"But it is for you," Minerva said, testing her luck.

Death looked out of the cave and onto the horizon, seemingly in deep thought. "Yes, it is." The spirit of death turned back to Minerva with a crestfallen look on her face. "You are a brave woman, Minerva, but do you trust me not to steal your soul from you where you stand?" she asked as she raised a slender hand to the witch's face. "Taking a life is not the only gift I was befitted. I am able to see within a person's soul to their true intentions—their heart, their essence. Let me touch you. Allow me to see what has brought you here, then I will decide if the knowledge you seek can be bestowed upon you."

"Do what you must," Minerva replied, trying to mask the nervousness brought on by Death's close proximity.

Severus watched dumbstruck from the edge of the memory as Death brought both hands to the sides of Minerva's face. Minerva's nervous expression went blank as Death stared straight into her eyes, reading her every thought, every single memory, her life's tale. After what seemed like an eternity, Death dropped her hands from Minerva's face and stepped back. She watched with a wicked grin as Minerva released a ragged breath and fell to her knees on the sand. Severus watched on, completely helpless as Death circled Minerva like a hungry vulture. "She is like a daughter to you, is she not. This girl you seek to aid?"

"Hermione is a bright woman who should have the opportunity to live a life free of the loss she has endured," said Minerva, looking up at Death from her knees.

"And you would lay down your life to save hers?"

"Without any hesitation."

"But is it Hermione Granger's will to travel down a different path? Loss is a part of life just as much as what we receive. Who is to say this path is not the one she should travel? When someone is on a path in their life, who are you to say that path is wrong? Life makes no mistakes."

Minerva staggered to her feet. "But can life be changed?"

"Yes," Death replied flatly.

"How can I change it?"

Death looked at Minerva with an air of smugness. "You can do no such thing. That power lies with me. I allow people the journey to find me. I will always be waiting at the end of any road they pursue. If I wish to receive one person before another, I weave the strings of life to fit my needs. They go along, never knowing their road has changed. I can give someone who deserves a contented life just that. It is the same with someone who does not deserve such ease."

"I wish for her to be happy. I wish for her to forget the pain of her past so she can finally live a life for herself and not the life others want her to live."

Death smiled, her fathomless eyes set on the woman in front of her. "You are unlike any other I have ever known, Minerva. Most seek me out to fulfill their own needs, but you do not. You come willingly and for someone other than yourself. It is because of this, and only this, that I will give you what you seek. I must warn you that it will be at a price." Death reached down to pick up a handful of sand. An hourglass full of white sand appeared in her hands and she held it out. The elderly witch took it hesitantly. "Minerva McGonagall, you have but until the sands of this time run out to compete your task. Take heed, woman, for your journey down this road will be treacherous. One does not make a deal with Death and expect Death to receive nothing in return. I will guarantee your friend a long and happy life in exchange for the rest of your days."

Minerva gasped as if she had just been drenched with freezing water. The small sandglass dropped from Minerva's hand landing upright in the sand by her feet. She started to back toward the entrance of the cave, her eyes never leaving the looming spirit. "That was not my intention! I was merely seeking your counsel—"

"It is my will," Death said calmly, but with a menacing authority. "I have decided to assist you and your dear friend because your heart is as true as your love for the girl. It is to be done as I say."

Minerva's face twisted with horror. She had been tricked and by evidence of the sandglass lying at her feet, her time had already started to run out. "I don't understand! How will I know this task you speak of?"

"Your silence is your last task. In the near future, you will be struck down even though it is ahead of your time. You and others will try to stop my coming. This will be for naught as neither you nor anyone else can defeat me. This girl you speak of will pine for your life, but she will also gain the friendship of someone who can give her what you and others cannot." Death paused as her eyes looked past Minerva. She looked directly at Severus, who was hidden among the shadows, and smiled. "You shall know the soul I speak of because he will do what you ask of him without question and without hesitation. Take careful warning, Minerva McGonagall. Your dear friend must never know the games you have played. If she discovers your dealings with me, your end will be for nothing and she will continue on the previous path I had set for her."

Severus watched as the remaining color seeped from Minerva's face as the truth of what to come sank in. "This is not what I wanted."

"We rarely get what we want, but in time you will see the reasons and you will feel justified for allowing yourself to make such a sacrifice. Go, Minerva," Death said, looking past her out onto the horizon. "Do what needs to be done. You haven't much time"

Before she could form a reply, Death's form dissipated, leaving the cave feeling even more desolate than before. Severus watched as Minerva hastily picked up the sandglass and hurled it at the side of the cave. The hourglass shattered into hundreds of pieces at her feet and she wept until the tears refused to fall from her eyes any longer. Severus, who was still standing at the edge of the memory, felt it collapsing around him as the anger he held for Minerva rolled off him in waves. He retreated from the memory and from Minerva's mind, unable to take the sight of her any longer.

Once again, Severus found himself standing in the middle of Minerva's bedchambers, staring daggers at the witch lying on the bed. Minerva looked up at him, fresh tears threatening to spill from her tired eyes.

"You disgust me," Severus whispered in an attempt to compose himself. "Of all the stupid, idiotic things you could have done, you pick the worst one possible!"

"I had good reason!" Minerva shrieked, having finally found her voice.

Snape's face twisted with disbelief. "Think, Minerva! Reasons or not, you are playing with fate!"

Minerva's eyes narrowed as if she was about to dole out punishment to an errant first-year. "Don't raise your voice to me, Severus Snape. I don't expect you to understand or approve of what I have done. You were the one who invaded my mind to retrieve it! No one was ever supposed to know."

Severus pretended not to have heard her. Instead, he stormed forward coming only inches from where she sat. "Well that plan was shot to hell, wasn't it?"

Minerva's lips pressed into a thin line at his harsh tone, but her resolve did not falter. "No, it was not."

"No?" Snape chastised, his voice full of incredulity. "I heard the words Death spoke to you with my own ears."

"You heard but you did not listen, Severus! It will only be shot to hell, as you so eloquently put it, if Hermione finds out."

The mention of Hermione's name brought on an entirely different streak of resentment. "All of this time you have been lying to her. You have watched her pour herself over books, spending countless hours searching for a way to heal you yet you say nothing. That woman has been running herself ragged to try to help you! She has a right to know this idiocy is entirely your fault."

"If she figures out what I have done, the deal will break. You heard that much for yourself. I have traded my life for her happiness."

"You are a fool, and you should have known better than to go flirting with magic of this nature. To seek out Death willingly—you know better!"

"No matter how much you preach to me, it will not change the fact that what's done is done."

Severus threw his hands in the air in frustration. "She has a right to know, Minerva, and you should have the decency to explain yourself! How can you not see that her life is not yours to meddle with?"

"No, Severus, she has a right to live a life free from all of the heartache and loss she has experienced."

"What heartache? What loss? The only thing I could imagine that would be troubling her is you."

"There are things pertaining to Hermione that you have no knowledge of," Minerva corrected sharply. "Just because you don't see her crumbling before your eyes, doesn't mean that she is not broken."

He paced nervously before pausing to ponder the one part of the memory he had not figured out. "Who is this other person Death spoke of? The one who can supposedly give Hermione what she needs?"

"Really, Severus? Are you so blind that you do not see that she was referring to you?"

Severus felt the sickening prickle of his skin as the fine hairs stood up on the back of his neck. "I am responsible for my choices. I control my life. I make my own fucking decisions! "

"And you have made them. Look where you are."

By the look of revulsion etched on his face, it was clear Severus had reached his limit. "I am finished with this place and I am finished with you." He said nothing else as he stalked out of Minerva's private chambers and toward the front entrance.

He was hoping to escape the grounds without being spotted. That desire was squelched when Hermione turned the corner ahead of him. He did not try to conceal the agitation on his face as he strode silently past her.

Hermione turned on her heel, following after him as quickly as her small stride would allow. "What's wrong?"

Severus quickened his pace, refusing to have a full-on conversation with his colleague. "I am leaving this corner of hell," he said, his voice overly harsh.

"I don't understand! Stop and talk to me!"

Severus paused momentarily then continued to stalk down the darkened corridor. "Severus Snape, stop this instant!"

"What more do you people want from me?!" Severus's usually reserved voice thundered down the hall, causing a spine tingling chill to creep over Hermione's flesh. "Minerva cannot be helped, Hermione. It is best you leave her alone. She has decided her fate, there is nothing either one of us can do to help that fact. "

Hermione started to reach for him, but thought better of it as she became aware of the slight trembling of his shoulders. Something was very wrong. "What is the matter?" He didn't answer, turning once again for the front gates of the grounds. "You can't leave!" she pleaded, trailing after him.

Snape stopped dead in his tracks, whipping around in a swirl of rage and black. "Do you want to know something? I loathe the day you stepped foot in my life, begging me to go on this damned quest of yours. It has given me nothing but grief! I have been brought back into a world I want no part of! But you can't leave people well enough alone can you? Hermione Granger and her pet projects, not satisfied unless she's trying to muck up someone else's life to fix all that is wrong with hers. "

Hermione stood stock-still in the middle of the hall as Severus's cold voice bounced off the equally frigid walls and straight to her gut. He could tell every word he said to her cut her like a knife. Truthfully, Severus didn't care. His only concern was escaping the castle and a secret he wished he had never uncovered. He left her there, fully aware of the fresh tears threatening to stream down her face.

Severus Apparated from the gate of Hogwarts directly to his front parlor. The moment his feet hit the floor, he knew he was fortunate to have made it there in once piece. He noticed the rusty, metallic tang of blood covering his tongue as he gained his senses - evidence of almost Splinching. He walked earnestly to the kitchen, spitting the red-tinged saliva in the sink basin. He stood there in the darkness, leaning against the sink for support as his mind reeled. The house was as still as the sleeping street that lay beyond the frost-covered window. The stillness was maddening. The deafening silence gave way to the shocking revelation he had just uncovered and wanted very much to forget. In all of the years he had known Minerva, in all of the years he had looked up to and respected the woman, Severus was troubled to learn of what she had done. Minerva McGonagall was level-headed. Minerva McGonagall did not dabble in the Dark Arts or any extension thereof. The Minerva McGonagall Severus knew did not have her hand in an exceptionally Dark pot, no matter the circumstances that led her to doing such a thing.

The circumstances, he thought, his attention turning to Hermione . As much as Minerva's memories revealed about her choices, they shined no light on Hermione's not-so distant past. That past, Severus reasoned, that was far more pained than he had first realized. Not that he would have realized, since he had his own life to live and paid little care to the lives of his former students. Even if that was the case, he could not help but feel the slightest bit of remorse for the girl. Especially when Severus thought he had figured out exactly what Minerva was referring to when she spoke of Hermione's troubles.

He had known of her split from the youngest Weasley boy because the lives of the Gryffindor Golden Children were often scrutinized by members of the general public. The wizarding world, as it was, was a rather minute sector of Britain's populace. The world got even smaller when you had a household name. As a result, everyone knew of their neighbor's business. The private lives of certain war heroes were not exempt from intense scrutiny. What the public bystanders failed to see hidden beneath the gossip and hearsay was the effects on the parties involved. Hermione Granger was most likely damaged, but that fact did not make her significantly different than the rest of the people in the world affected by sob stories of similar despair and hopelessness. What he couldn't understand was why Minerva felt the need to do something as drastic as she did.

Severus glared at the grime-covered fixtures on his sink for the longest time. "Congratulations, Granger," he finally seethed with incredible vitriol. "You're just as fucked as the rest of us."

Severus turned on the tap, allowing the cold water to rinse the basin of his blood. He splashed his face with the cool water in an attempt to calm his nerves. It was a frivolous task that did nothing more than chill him to his core. He needed something stronger than tap water to placate him.

Hard-faced, he removed his frock coat, tossing it nonchalantly across his modest kitchen table. He didn't bother retrieving a glass from the cupboard, but opted to make a bee-line for his liquor cabinet. He had in mind to pass up the lighter drink selections for his newly-gifted bottle of impressively aged Ogden's Old.

Just as Lucius had promised, the finest bottle of Firewhiskey he would ever experience was sitting on the bar. It was covered with an overly extravagant green bow complete with an enchanted snake accent. Severus watched for a few seconds as the silver serpent wound itself around and around the green ribbon, its metal tongue flicking at the fabric. Snape rolled his eyes. Narcissa really needed to find another way to spend her time.

Severus brandished his wand and vanished the ridiculous trappings. Once the bottle was free of any unnecessary trimmings, Severus took it to his chair, settling in to begin the practice of forgetting his first day as a reinstated Hogwarts Professor. That was the last thing Severus could recall until, several hours later, an incessant and particularly irritating knock provoked him from his liquor-induced torpor.

At first, he believed the noise to be the passing rain storm that was currently wrecking havoc on Cokeworth. That thought was quickly flew out the window when the obnoxious rapping increased with fervor. After consulting his old grandfather clock, he realized it was nearing one in the morning. Severus stood up, tucking his wrinkled shirt into his trousers. He kicked his shoes out of the way as sauntered over to his door. Though he was still moderately sloshed, Severus was relieved to see he still possessed the majority of his motor functions.

When he unlatched the door, there, dripping wet and pale as a bone, stood Hermione Granger. The look on her face angered Severus, but not for the reason it should have. He was infuriated because, even though she had brought him into his current situation, she was really not the one to blame. In truth, Hermione was the one true victim and he hated Minerva for placing her in such a predicament.

When she saw his cold expression, Hermione hurriedly diverted her eyes to her soaked shoes. She made neither the effort to let herself in nor shy away from him. The two of them stood there at an impasse of sorts, both of them waiting on the other to act first. "Come in, idiot woman, before you catch cold," Severus growled impatiently. Hermione did as instructed, but offered no indication as to why she was at his house in the middle of the night.

Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose out of habit as he searched his liquor-fogged mind for the words to say. "Would you care to explain to me why you are out in the middle of a monsoon at one in the morning— banging on my door no less?"

Hermione's lip quivered, though Severus couldn't tell if it was from the cold or something else. He suspected the latter. "It's Minerva," she said finally.

"What about the old hag?" Severus snapped.

Hermione's melancholy quickly erupted into fury as she shoved Severus up against the wall. Her finger jabbed painfully into his chest with each word that seeped through her clenched teeth. "That old hag is like a mother to me and she is dying!"

In a swift motion, Severus grabbed the irascible witch by hand and spun her around. Hermione found herself pinned between the wood-paneled wall and Severus's firm torso. She could smell the smoky traces of the bottle of Firewhiskey he polished off as he brought his face level with hers. "Who do you think you are, you ungrateful little twit? You come to my home, behaving like a damned lunatic. Tell me why I shouldn't throw you out on your skinny arse."

Severus expected Hermione to go into a fit of hysterics at his threat; instead she shuddered against him as a violent sob coursed through her entire body. He stepped back only to realize he was the only thing holding her up off the floor. Before he could help it, Severus found himself bringing her to her feet and steering her toward the nearest chair. he quickly realized that something had gone terribly wrong, and Hermione confirmed his suspensions when she gained her voice.

"Poppy has sent for a Healer from St. Mungo's. Minerva's state has declined steadily and at an alarming rate. She is not always lucid, but when she wakes, she asks for you, Severus. I promised to bring you back before it was too late."

Before Severus could say a word, a fresh round of sobs erupted from the trembling woman. She reached out and grasped the fabric of his sleeve, locking it tightly between her fingers. "I have to bring you back. Once she speaks with you, you can go your own way, and I swear to you that you'll never hear from me again. This is the last thing I'm asking of you. Severus, please."

Severus could feel his mind sobering by the second. Although he did not welcome the return to reality, he was thankful that he would not be divulging any secrets to Hermione because of his inebriation. He thought for a moment on how to respond to her request. He had absolutely no desire to see Minerva, but he could not refuse Hermione's request without raising her suspicion as to why. Severus decided, despite his disdain for the situation and everyone involved, that he would return to Hogwarts this final time in order to make sure that Hermione never learned the truth about what Minerva had done. Despite being an almost-constant pain over the past several weeks, Hermione was at least owed the chance to have closure over the death of a close friend.

*****

"Minerva," Hermione said touching the sleeping woman on the shoulder. "Minerva, I have Severus."

The Headmistress looked up at Hermione through tired eyes, before nodding toward the door. Hermione's brows furrowed with confusion, but Severus managed to answer her next question before she could ask it.

"I believe the Headmistress would like a few moments alone. Go sit with Madam Pomfrey," he ordered. "I will retrieve you when our business is finished."

Hermione squeezed Minerva's hand tightly before taking her leave. When she was out of the room Severus cast a Silencing Charm over the door. He could not risk inadvertently informing Hermione or anyone else of the skeleton hidden in the Headmistress's cupboard.

Severus positioned the nearby armchair by Minerva's bed before sitting down on its edge. "We're alone," he said curtly. "What is it that you wanted to discuss?"

"I am truly sorry it has come to this. You were never supposed to know."

"Well, I do and there is nothing that will change that fact," Snape rebuked sternly, though he was fighting a losing battle with himself to be civil at the sight of her. "Stop with the idle chatter, Minerva, and get on with it. Why would you have your her drag me back here?"

A single silent tear rolled down Minerva's cheek, leaving a salty stain on the pillow beneath her head. "Promise me, Severus…promise me you will keep what you know between the two of us."

"Explain to me why I should do such a thing, Minerva? Why should I let that woman standing outside your door wallow in grief that you do not deserve?"

"Because you are a decent man, and you will do what's right by that woman standing in the hall."

"How can you lie there and ask this of me; after everything you have done?"

"I don't expect you to forgive me, but I do expect you to see what I have to show you." Minerva's arm extended slowly to the far corner of the room. Severus's eyes followed and he saw, sitting in the corner, the Pensieve that once belonged to Albus Dumbledore. "My reasons, my justification; it's all there. But I must ask you to never speak of this with Hermione. What lies in the basin deals with her, and she would not take kindly to having such things publicized."

"Then why show it to me?" he asked as he went to where it stood.

"I would think it obvious," Minerva whispered. "So you will see why I did what I did. Perhaps then, you'll understand."

Severus found himself standing in the middle of Hermione's personal chambers. Hermione sat, propped up in her bed, looking as if a Dementor was floating above her head. Minerva, who was there for obvious support sat on the edge of the bed, her hand resting on Hermione's socked foot. It was quite plain from the expression on her face that the young witch was deeply troubled. Severus inched closer so as to hear her quite voice as it fell from her trembling lips.

"Why is this allowed to happen, Minerva? Why are people allowed to feel this lonely? In a world filled to the brim with people it doesn't feel like this is supposed to happen."

"I'm afraid that is just the way the world works, my dear," Minerva replied with a weak smile.

"It doesn't make any sense to me; it doesn't make sense to me that there are countless people in this world, most of them searching for someone, yet I can't seem to find a single one of them. It consumes me and it scares me. It feels as if the very air I breathe is a thousand tiny needles, each one of them digging painfully into my insides."

A tear ran down her cheek, but Hermione made no effort to brush it away. "I have never felt this alone. After all I have been through; after everything I've seen, this feels the worst."

Minerva released a ragged breath as she stood. "It only feels that way because you allow it."

"It is the only thing I can feel! This, whatever it is, has taken hold of me and I can't shake it!"

"That is because you haven't tried," Minerva said, a sense of pleading in her voice. "Hermione, I have known you for most of your life. I know that you will rise above this and I know it scares you senseless because you can feel a grief that runs deep that it seems catastrophic, but you cannot let it eat away at you. Do you understand me? Your parents are gone and it is so deeply horrible that they were ripped from you like they were, but there is nothing you can do to change that fact. And you certainly shouldn't blame yourself, as I can clearly see that you are doing."

"It isn't just my mother and father, Minerva. Don't you understand? I have lost the only friends I have ever known. My God," Hermione said, struggling to maintain what little composure she had, "I have no one in my life anymore and it is entirely my fault."

"You have Hogwarts, Hermione. You have friends here. You have me, how can you not see that? You are not truly alone, child, even though it feels as if you are."

"I asked them, Minerva; I sought them out to help me and they refused."

"You asked who to do what?"

"My so-called friends," Hermione scoffed. "I wrote to them after it happened, all three of them, and because of what happened between Ron and I, it was like I didn't even exist to them anymore. Ron's letter was returned unopened. And Harry and Ginny, though they offered their condolences, seemed rigid and cut-off—almost like it was beneath them to respond. I know they are angry with me for the decision I made about Ron, but I never expected to be treated that way by them."

"It is their loss, Hermione."

"No it isn't," the younger witch said as she closed her eyes. Two giant tears seeped from between her closed lids and fell silently to her lap. "They have lost nothing. I can guarantee you that they are not the least bit burdened about it and it angers me to no end that they make me feel this way, yet they go about their lives as if nothing has happened."

"Perhaps it is for the best that you have this distance. You have been through something that only you can deal with. You need time to sort yourself straight. This could be a blessing in disguise..."

Severus emerged from the Pensieve, never displaying the immense sense of pity he suddenly felt for his former student. Instead, he walked straight to the seat he had deserted moments before and sat down heavily, clearly deep in thought. Minerva's quite voice jolted him back to reality.

"Shortly after Weasley and Hermione parted ways, her parents were involved in a horrific Muggle accident. Some other Muggle, who was also operating an automobile, smashed into the side of their car while they were stopped at a junction near Sydney."

"Why were they in Australia?"

"Hermione sent them there in an effort to keep them safe during the Dark Lord's rise for power."

"I had no idea."

"Not many people know of it. Hermione is a strong person, Severus; stronger than you give her credit for. She puts of a brave face in the limelight but on the inside she has her demons. The poor child slipped into a depression deeper than I could have imagined. There were weeks where she would sleep the days away. She would refuse any and all company. When I finally managed to get Mister Potter here, Hermione gave him a good verbal thrashing and sent him on his way. He hasn't been back since that time and she hasn't made mention of her former friends. The staff and I thought she would never come out of it; she wouldn't have, I don't believe, had I not made the decision to do what I did. So now you see why. Now you know the reasons behind my deceit. Now you know why you can never say anything, Severus, because Hermione deserves better than that."

Severus didn't respond, his mind elsewhere. He looked away from her, unable to take the sight of the woman. In truth, every time the subject was broached, Severus could clearly see Death looking right at him in his mind's eye.

"You shall know the soul I speak of because he will do what you ask of him without question and without hesitation.." He had recited the phrase to himself during his drunken evening, but he could not deny the truth that lay hidden between the words. Severus couldn't explain it, and he wasn't so sure he wanted to know the reasoning behind his decision, but he had made one nonetheless. He would inevitably do what Minerva was asking of him. Severus stood steadfastly by the notion that he was responsible for his decisions, but everything Death had said to Minerva was falling into place. He could not refute that he was standing right in the middle of it. "I will keep your bloody secret, but let me make one thing perfectly clear to you: I refuse to do it for you."

"I don't want you to do it for me," Minerva managed, her voice suddenly sounding strained.

Severus, who had turned his attention to the stifling fire burning in the firebox, whipped his head around to spot the blank look that had taken hold of the Headmistress's features. He bolted from his seat, fearing she had finally succumbed. His earnest concern was met with an ear-shattering scream that nearly made him fall over from the sheer fright. He watched on, completely helpless as a sudden crippling seizure consumed her. Severus brought two strong, steadying hands to the witch's shoulders, but that did nothing to stop the violent tremor crashing over her.

The loud commotion would have been enough to summon the Hogwarts Matron and the Healer from the sitting room, but the Silencing Charm Severus had cast over the bedroom door was blocking every sound from escaping beyond the room. He turned with haste to retrieve the Mediwizard, but a subtle hum stopped his progress. Severus looked back at Minerva to spot a soft iridescent glow to her skin. He backed up slowly in the direction of the door, as the soft glow intensified into a noticeable light.

Without warning, a brilliant blinding white light flooded the room and, in that same instance, Severus found himself being flung up against the stone wall that stood several feet away. The powerful ejection of Minerva's magic had blasted him across the room, knocking the wind from his lungs as his back connected with the unforgiving stone.

He pulled himself up off the floor as he surveyed the disarray. That was when he spotted it. It must have been plucked from its hiding spot when Minerva's magic discharged. He prodded the object with his foot as if it would reach out and drag him to the deepest pits of Hell. Sitting right-side up on the floor, glimmering with wicked foreboding, was the sandglass given to Minerva by Death itself. The white sand was trickling from the top bulb, but when it passed through the connecting tube, it turned as black as coal. Severus regarded the blackened-sand resting in the bottom bulb, feeling an intense knot form in his throat. If the hourglass was an accurate measurement, Minerva's time among the living was running out.

---

Author's Notes:

The excerpt from the Tale of the Three Brothers was taken directly from chapter twenty-one of Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows. No copyright infringement is intended and I am fully aware that those words were not of my mind, but of J.K Rowling's.

Meladara and Desigrl, the two of you are simply fabulous. Readers, without you, this wouldn't be nearly as fun. I can't thank you enough for the time you've spent reading my silly little hobby. That said, your thoughts and your reviews are welcomed, and greatly appreciated.